


Pressure

by humanveil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP, Sex Toys, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 19:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9562640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: In a bid to improve Draco’s self-control, Severus makes him wear a plug during class.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 1, in my head this is set in the 8th year trope.  
> 2\. sorry for any mistakes!! it's late, i'm my own beta, and this was written really quickly as a gift. hope you like it anyway!

Draco stands outside the familiar classroom, fidgeting slightly as he waits for the door to open. There are students around him, chatting with each other, but he prefers to keep to himself these days. The memories of the war are fresh in everyone’s minds, and he knows he likely isn’t welcome, anyway.

Minutes before the class is set to start, the door opens with a bang. Draco enters first, walking to the front of the room and taking his usual seat. He grimaces as he sits, the pressure of the plug almost uncomfortable.

“Today,” Snape starts, and the deep drawl goes straight to Draco’s groin. He already feels like he’s been aroused for too long, the preparation for the plug more enjoyable than perhaps it should have been. “We will continue our work on Wolfsbane.”

Draco lets out a quiet sigh of relief. He wouldn’t have to concentrate _too_ hard – he’d made the potion with Severus before, more than once, and knows he can do it again. He listens as Snape addresses the small class, laying out the instructions slowly. Draco makes notes to keep up the act, and because he knows the professor won’t repeat himself.

He gasps softly when he stands to gather his ingredients, the tip of the plug pressing against him just so. He looks around to see if anyone had noticed, the anxiety that they will somehow be caught growing in the pit of his stomach as every second passes. Luckily, the size of the class means they’re all spaced out enough for no one to have heard.

It’s a double lesson, meaning they’re there for at least two hours. The first half passes smoothly. The methodical actions of preparing the potion distract Draco from the pressure against his ass, from the stretch. He’s still half hard, but it isn’t as debilitating as he thought it would be.

The sense of security is shattered when Snape stands, moving to the back of the class and making rounds. Draco listens to the harsh criticism he offers the other students, and bites his lip so he doesn’t laugh. He can appreciate the humour of his professor’s insults, because they were rarely addressed to him.

He tries not to act any differently when he hears the familiar footsteps approach him, but he can _feel_ a change in himself. He fidgets more, becomes keenly aware of every movement he makes.

“And you, Mr. Malfoy?”

Snape stands close enough for Draco to feel his breath, and it sends a slight shiver down his spine. “Fine, professor,” he says, voice not quite as strong as he’d like.

Snape inspects his potion, humming noncommittally. “You seem uncomfortable,” he murmurs, quiet enough that only Draco can hear.

“No, sir.”

Snape hums again, and Draco can hear him move slightly. He feels a press of magic, the silent spell hitting him, and then— _oh._ The plug inside him starts to vibrate gently, silently. Draco gasps again, quickly clamping his mouth shut so the sound goes mostly unheard.

Next to him, he can see Snape’s lips twitch. “Better?” he asks, and Draco wants to say _no_ , that he can’t possibly be expected to keep working when the vibration seems to grow faster with every second, but all gives in response is a small nod. “Good. Add more baze powder.”

Draco nods again, reaching for the jar. Severus steps away from him, and Draco bites his lip when his professor’s body brushes against his own.

The next hour is torture. The plug vibrates relentlessly, pushing further inside of him. Draco can feel himself harden, his body heating up as arousal sweeps through him. He reaches a hand down under his robes more than once, a poor attempt to relieve some of the ache. If anything, it only grows worse; the pure want to be fucked taking over.

His concentration wavers and he makes more than one mistake, but he manages to fix them. Every now and then, he catches Snape checking on him; small subtle looks that would have meant nothing to anyone else, but meant the world to Draco. He looked pleased with himself, smug that he can make Draco fall apart from across the room, without touching him, and Draco finds it both annoying and arousing.  

When there’s thirty minutes left and Draco’s all but whimpering at his desk, ready to burst, Snape stands again. Like before, he starts at the back of the class, making his way forward. Draco keeps his gaze focused on his potion, tries not to look.

He can feel when the other man is near him. Too close to be normal, but their position likely hides that from everyone else. “You’re behind,” Snape says, though there isn’t any annoyance in his words, as there had been when he’d said the same to Longbottom.

“Sorry, sir,” Draco responds, voice strained. Severus can most likely hear the want in his voice, he thinks. Could probably tell what his body’s going through even if he hadn’t been the one to initiate it.

“Still,” he continues, and Draco can feel the plug press deeper, harder, quicker. It _just_ brushes against his prostate, and he makes a half gasp, half moan noise that he turns into cough, face hiding against his own shoulder. “You’re doing very well, Draco.”

Draco can’t help his body’s reaction. The words are said almost directly in his ear, the man’s tone identical to the one he uses when they’re in bed; the one he _knows_ makes Draco fall apart.

He comes, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. His hands clench around the stone edge of his desk, eyes fluttering shut as he struggles to stay upright. Snape stays still where he stands, watching him intently. Draco is actually thankful for it – his professor’s larger frame means he’s blocked from sight, and he really doesn’t want to be seen by anyone else when he’s like this.

As he comes down from his high, Snape adds the next ingredient for him. He talks about the benefits of some plant or another, and the words drown out Draco’s heavy breathing. Only once he’s regained control of himself does Snape stop the plug’s vibrations and move to his desk, offering Draco another barely-there smile.

Draco takes a deep breath, an attempt to clear his head, and tries to focus on his work again. He can feel the dampness of his come seeping into the fabric of his pants, and he tries to ignore the uncomfortable sticky feeling. He’s never been so thankful for his outer robes; the thought of leaking through to his trousers more than a little embarrassing.

The class ends not long after. Draco finishes after nearly everyone else, ignoring Wesley’s comment about him being _slow._ Snape dismisses them, but Draco takes his time cleaning up; packing his ingredients away carefully and cleaning his worktop. By the time he’s done, he and Severus are alone in the room while everyone else is halfway to lunch.

“Come here,” Snape calls, and Draco obeys, walking up to his desk. He stops in front of him, waiting to be chided. He was supposed to control himself the _entire_ lesson, after all. “You did good,” he says instead, and Draco looks up in surprise.

“Really?”

“Mm. Better than I had expected,” Snape continues. He reaches a hand out to Draco’s waist, pulling him closer. “However,” he continues, “You didn’t complete the task. You’ll have to be punished.”

Draco lets his gaze drop, head hanging in shame. “Yes, sir,” he murmurs.

“I want you to keep the plug in for your remaining classes, and then come to me after your last lesson. Understood?”

Draco nods. He doesn’t fancy keeping the thing in all day, but the promise of what he’d get _after_ his punishment… well. “Yes, sir,” he repeats.

“Good boy,” Snape says, and Draco perks at the words. They always made him feel pleased; giddy, almost. Carefully, Severus leans forward, brushing his lips against Draco’s briefly. “Now go.”

Draco gives him a small grin as they part, but does as he’s told. He leaves the classroom, moving to the closest bathroom to clean himself up; his body already wishing for the day of classes to end.


End file.
